


Winchesters Ruin Everything

by liane1787



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Sam, Community: spnkink_meme, Dubious Consent, Dubious Consent Due To Identity Issues, Episode: s04e17 It's a Terrible Life, M/M, Office Sex, Top Dean, maybe? - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-06 14:13:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11037837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liane1787/pseuds/liane1787
Summary: Prompt: (S04, E17: It's a Terrible Life) Dean and Sam end up messing up their lesson by fucking each other in Dean's office instead of going after the ghost. Zachariah is pissed and ends up barging in while their pants are still down, ranting about how Winchesters ruin everything and snaps their memories back.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so no one will ever accuse me of being the best writer out there, but I hope y'all like this anyway! Un-beta'd, like everything I write, so any mistakes you find are all because I tend to get ahead of myself and post before I proofread. :-D

* * *

 

 

“Um, excuse me? Mr. Smith? Y-you said you wanted to see me?”

 

Sam silently cursed at himself for the little stutter in the middle, but it really wasn’t like he could be blamed. In fact, if there was a single person in the world who could stand in front of the so-hot-it-should-probably-be-illegal Director of Marketing and Sales without tripping all over themselves, Sam would be surprised. He certainly hadn’t met one yet.

 

“Mr. Wesson. Yes. Come on in,” Dean waved the tall tech support man in without even looking away from the computer screen where he was busy typing something. “Shut the door behind you.”

 

Sam obediently stepped into the office and closed the door. He clutched at the computer bag hanging over his shoulder like it was a safety blanket, ducking his head just slightly so that his hair fell over his eyes. His version of “hiding”, the way he tended to do when he was nervous.

 

Dean tapped away on his computer for another moment or two, then finally looked up at the fidgety young man standing in front of his desk. He had to smother a laugh that wanted to escape at the sight of how nervous the tech support kid looked.

 

“Sit, please,” Dean waved to the chairs, standing at the same time as Sam sat, which only served to stress him out even more.

 

He set the computer bag down at his feet and tried not to let his eyes dart nervously around the room as Dean walked over to the door and flipped the lock. Sam couldn’t help the startled jump he gave when Dean suddenly appeared right behind him, though. The man could be dead silent when he wanted to be and clearly right now was one of those times when he’d wanted to be.

 

“Mr. Smith?” Sam asked.

 

“Coast is clear, Sam,” Dean leaned down to nibble at Sam’s ear, combing his hand through his long hair at the same time. “You can relax now.”

 

“Oh thank god,” Sam let his head fall back with a pleased moan. He loved the feeling of Dean’s lips and teeth on him. The feel of his hands in his hair. As much as he didn’t want to, he had to stop him though. “Dean. Wait. It’s the middle of the day. Not really the time for this.”

 

“Yeah, but that’s the reason they invented door locks and window blinds,” Dean reminded him, moving to nibble lightly at Sam’s neck. Not hard enough to leave marks, but more than enough to drive him crazy.

 

Dean had met Sam just a few weeks ago. Right here in this very office, actually. Sam had just started at the company and had filled out a form incorrectly. Nothing serious, but it’d needed to be fixed before Dean could complete his report, so he’d called him upstairs. To say he’d been surprised when the tall, built, gorgeous man had appeared in his door would be an understatement. It was like an instant connection. Like they’d known each other in a past life or something. They just clicked instantly. Despite not being the type to jump headlong into anything, he’d wound up inviting Sam over to his apartment for dinner that night and ever since then they’d barely been able to keep their hands off of each other. They really, honestly tried while they were at work, but Dean was still calling Sam up to his office at least every other day to “fix” something. This was the first time he’d been bold enough (or horny enough) to call him up right in the middle of the day, though. Usually, if he was going to call Sam, it was when everyone was out on their lunch breaks or later in the day when a good portion of the other employees had already gone home.

 

“Besides,” Dean continued, pulling Sam up and then shoving him back against the desk. “I don’t exactly hear you complaining.”

 

Sam mumbled out something that Dean didn’t pay attention to. Seriously, the kid would talk _constantly_ if given half a chance. So he didn’t give him a chance. Instead, he pulled Sam down into a rough kiss, lowering him until he was lying mostly across the desk, propped up on his elbows.

 

Just when he was sure that he’d driven Sam completely insane, Dean pulled away with a grin. He looked down into huge, lust-blown hazel eyes as he carefully unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged out of it. Dean had learned the hard way that Sam got even more uncoordinated, not to mention impatient, when he was this turned on. He was still finding buttons all over his office from the time Sam had simply ripped his shirt after he’d gotten frustrated with his inability to get his fingers to cooperate and unbutton it.

 

Sam watched Dean greedily, still lying back on the desk, and lunged up to kiss him as soon as Dean moved close enough. They separated just long enough for Dean to slide his hands under Sam’s hideous yellow polo shirt and pull it up and over his head, then their hands were all over each other again. Sam reached forward and wrapped his huge hands around Dean’s hips and pulled him in even closer while Dean twined one hand in his hair and fumbled with Sam’s belt with the other.

 

As soon as Dean had Sam’s belt loosened he reached for the small bottle of lube they kept in a pocket of Sam’s computer bag while Sam turned over and dropped his feet to the floor so that he was leaning over the desk. He’d managed to swing his legs over to the other side of the desk so that they’d be facing the door. For some reason that they both laughed off as paranoia, neither of them were comfortable having their back to a door for too long.

 

“God, the things you do to me,” Dean prowled up behind Sam and trailed his fingers along the waistband of Sam’s khakis.

 

“Dean…” Sam whined and tilted his hips back a little further. He didn’t even care how needy he sounded right at that moment.

 

“Easy, baby boy. I’ve got you,” Dean grinned, finally sweeping Sam’s pants and boxers down in one swift movement.

 

He quickly uncapped the bottle of lube, coated his fingers, and pushed two into Sam. The slight burn turned almost immediately to pleasure and Sam rocked back on Dean’s hand, trying to speed him up. Dean laughed and slapped his ass playfully before reaching around to close his free hand around Sam’s cock, pulling a choked moan from the younger man.

 

“G-god,” Sam was caught between wanting to push forward into Dean’s hand or back to get his fingers deeper. He clutched at the edge of the desk and arched his back, doing his best to do both at once.

 

Dean only waited a few more seconds before adding a third finger, finally crooking them to rub against Sam’s prostate. He had to bite his lip to keep back a moan of his own as Sam whimpered and clenched around his fingers.

 

“Dean. It’s enough. Please,” Sam begged. He felt ready to fly apart from sheer pleasure, but he didn’t want to come yet. “Need you inside me. Please. Come on.”

 

“Alright,” Dean was at his limit, too. Watching Sam fall apart and hearing him beg was a sure-fire way to drive him just as crazy.

 

He gently pulled back, shushing Sam’s whine of displeasure at being empty, and pushed his slacks and boxers down just far enough to get himself free. Grabbing the lube again, Dean slicked his cock and teased the head across Sam’s hole. He didn’t have enough patience for much teasing at this point either, though, and slowly pushed in until he was flush against Sam.

 

“Tell me when,” Dean clutched at Sam’s hips tight enough that he knew there would be finger-shaped bruises left behind. Bruises that he would admire and want to lick when they got back to his apartment tonight and he could take his time doing every sinful thing he could possibly think of to Sam.

 

“Move,” Sam gasped a moment later, pushing back like he could get him even deeper. He let his head drop forward as Dean pulled almost completely out and then slammed back into him, already getting into a steady rhythm.

 

“Fuck, you’re so hot like this Sammy,” Dean pulled Sam’s hips back as he pushed forward, changing the angle just slightly so that he knew he would hit Sam’s prostate with every thrust. “Spread out over my desk. You drive me so crazy, baby boy. Can’t get enough of you.”

 

Dean kept murmuring a litany of dirty talk, mixed with endearments into Sam’s ear. Sam squeezed his eyes shut and bit down on his lips hard to keep quiet as Dean’s thrusts started to speed up and lose a bit of coordination. They were both close. Just another few seconds and…

 

“Oh for the love of... _Enough_!” the door to Dean’s office burst open – despite the fact that he knew for a fact that he’d locked it – and his supervisor, Mr. Adler, stormed in.

 

They were so screwed. Literally and figuratively. There was absolutely nothing to say or do to explain this away. The old “it’s not what it looks like” line definitely wasn’t going to work in this situation, seeing as there was no way to mistake exactly what was going on. They were both frozen in place though, neither of them sure exactly what to do.

 

“Nearly three weeks I’ve put up with this!” Mr. Adler continued to rage. “I put you two mutton heads here to teach you a lesson, but you can’t keep it in your pants long enough to even realize there is one, let alone learn it! I gave you the benefit of the doubt at first, thinking you’d come to your senses, but apparently I was too optimistic in thinking that either of you had the ability to use a bit of common sense!”

 

He snapped his fingers and suddenly Dean’s entire world turned upside down as everything rushed back to him. His name was Dean Winchester. He was a hunter. He was searching for a way to stop the Apocalypse along with the man he considered his surrogate father, Bobby; his best friend who was an angel, Castiel; and his brother…oh god.

 

“Now if you two had _bothered_ to pay attention to what’s going on around you instead of fornicating over every available surface, you might’ve realized why I dropped you in the middle of an office building!” Zachariah yelled at them, ignoring the horrified looks on the boys’ faces. “You were supposed to realize that there is a job in this building. A ghost, which you were supposed to research and destroy, proving that you two are meant to be exactly who you are. But you Winchesters ruin everything!”

 

With that, Zachariah disappeared with the sound of flapping wings, leaving Sam and Dean in exactly the same position as they’d been in the entire time. They stayed silent for a second before Sam squirmed uncomfortably.

 

“Um, Dean? Don’t you think maybe this might be a good time to…uh?” Sam suggested.

 

“What? Oh! Jesus Christ,” Dean pulled away from – _out of_ , his mind unhelpfully corrected – his brother so quickly that they both flinched uncomfortably.

 

“We should maybe…probably talk about this,” Sam said as they both started fumbling to pull their clothes back on.

 

“Talk about it?” Dean yelled as he snatched his shirt up off the floor. “Sam we just…I just…we…”

 

“Articulate,” Sam muttered. “Look, I mean, it’s not like we knew we were brothers.”

 

“Right, because that makes it so much better!” Dean chanced a look at his brother and sighed in relief when he saw that they were both fully clothed again. “That definitely helped when Zach there zapped our memories back and we were right in the middle of…oh god I’m gonna be sick.”

 

“I think we were closer to the end than the middle,” came out before Sam could stop himself. He flinched at the glare that Dean levelled at him and quickly moved on. “I…I didn’t say that not knowing made things better, necessarily. Just that it made it a little more understandable. I mean, come on. People have office flings all the time?”

 

The last part came out as more of a nervous question than a statement, given the fact that Dean’s glare was now reaching homicidal levels.

 

“Stop. Talking,” Dean ground out through his teeth. “It isn’t exactly a ‘normal office fling’ when you suddenly realize it’s your brother you’ve been ‘flinging’ with.”

 

“Hey, I’m just as freaked out about this as you are,” Sam tried again. His conscience gave a little twinge at the lie. “And despite the fact that this is literally the most awkward after-sex conversation I’ve ever had…”

 

“God, don’t say that!” Dean interrupted, scrubbing his hands over his face.

 

“What? Sex?” Sam asked, anger suddenly pushing nervousness aside. “Why? Do you have another name for what we’ve been doing for the past three weeks?”

 

“Yeah, it’s called ‘let’s never mention this ever again’,” Dean snapped back. He knew he shouldn’t be so hostile to Sam, but better to push his brother away than to risk him finding out the truth. The truth about the way he’d wanted him ever since Sam had turned sixteen and transformed from geeky, gangly teenager into some sort of Greek god. Thoughts like that were sick. Sam was his _little brother_ for Christ’s sake.

 

“Zachariah said there was a pissed off ghost in the building,” he changed the subject abruptly. “Let’s do our damn job, get rid of it, and get the hell out of here.”

 

Without waiting for an answer or to see if Sam was going to follow him, he stormed out of the office. Sam shook his head and did the only thing left to do. Followed.

 

 

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you all _so_ much for the kudos/comments. It honestly brightens my day when I see them, so thank you!!
> 
> I'm sorry this took a little longer to get out than I meant for it to. Hubby's been home all week, so trying to write Wincest-y fanfic with him sitting _right there_ next to me has been a little awkward. XD Thankfully he had pit passes to the Pocono Raceway NASCAR races this weekend so I was able to get rid of him for awhile. Lol. 
> 
> I y'all enjoy this chapter too, and as always I'd love to hear your opinions on it!

* * *

 

 

 

“Here you go. Room number 8. Last one we got left,” the bored looking motel clerk pushed a key across the counter. “Buddy?”

 

“Huh? Oh. Thanks,” Dean nodded to him and snatched the key up. He’d barely been paying attention to the man, more focused on thinking about the train wreck of the last three weeks.

 

It was bad enough that he’d been kidnapped by an angel, had his memories wiped, been turned into some corporate dickhead, put on a diet, and forced to drive a _Prius_ of all things (and Baby was never going to forgive him for that one). But none of that even fucking compared to the fact that he and Sam had been…well…fucking pretty much the whole time.

 

He pulled his duffel out of the Impala without even so much as glancing in Sam’s direction. They’d barely said two words to each other the entire hunt, which had turned out to be a ridiculously simple salt and burn that had only taken them one internet search and a couple of hours to take care of, despite all the craziness. Sure, Sam had tried. Damn kid wasn’t satisfied unless he could talk literally everything to death. But Dean had steadfastly refused to even acknowledge that he was talking, let alone dignify anything with a response.

 

It was a dick move, but the honest truth was that he was afraid if he gave in and actually talked about the past three weeks, everything would come out. The truth about how he still remembered the day that Sam, at sixteen, had come out of the bathroom stilly partially wet, wearing nothing but a towel and Dean had suddenly realized that his baby brother had grown up. The truth about how ever since that day he’d wanted Sam in ways that were decidedly un-brotherly. The kind of truths that made him some sort of sick, twisted pervert who’d been in love with his own little brother for nearly ten years now and would send Sam running from him as fast as humanly possible. No. Better to have Sam pissed at him for refusing to talk about this than to have him know those things.

 

Still brooding, Dean unlocked the motel room door, took two steps in, and then realized there was something very wrong. His eyes narrowed and his fists clenched.

 

“Oh, _come on_!” he yelled.

 

“Dean, what…oh,” Sam immediately noticed what had set Dean off and had to smother a laugh. Dean was past the point of being on edge and Sam was pretty sure that if he laughed his brother was going to start swinging.

 

Sitting unobtrusively against the wall of the motel room, the current object of Dean’s ire, was a bed. _One_ bed.

 

“It’s no big deal,” Sam assured him. “I’ll go back to the office and get the guy to switch us to a different room.”

 

“All the other rooms are booked,” Dean muttered, vaguely remembering the clerk saying something along those lines. “Son of a bitch. Guess we’re sleeping in the car tonight.”

 

“What? No way, dude,” Sam argued. “You go sleep in the car if that’s what you want to do. Some of us don’t exactly fit comfortably and I’m not gonna spend the entire night twisted into a pretzel when there’s a perfectly good bed right here.”

 

“We’re not staying, Sam,” Dean glared at him.

 

“I’m staying, but you do what you want,” Sam pushed his way further into the room and tossed his duffel down on the bed. “Stay, go, whatever. I’m too tired to keep fighting with you tonight.”

 

Without waiting for an answer, Sam dug a set of sweats and his shower things out of his bag, headed for the bathroom, and slammed the door harder than was strictly necessary. He knew Dean was freaked out because of the last few weeks, and knew that he had every right to be. What really bothered Sam was that he didn’t want Dean to be freaked out.

 

For three weeks he’d had something he’d wanted since he was fourteen. Okay, so for the past few weeks he didn’t know just how deep those feelings went, but there had definitely been something in the back of his mind telling him that there was something deeper. It was like some sort of cruel joke that he’d been able to have Dean for just a little while, only to have him ripped away again. He should probably be more disturbed about the fact that he was in love with his brother, but he’d spent long enough beating himself up over that. Eventually he’d come to the conclusion that even though modern society might seriously frown upon it, modern society could fuck off. Dean was the one person he trusted with his life. The one who he could count on come Hell or high water. The person who would (and did) die for him. If loving someone who meant that much to you was wrong, Sam was willing to be wrong.

 

The problem came in getting Dean to see things that way. The best Sam figured he could hope for if he ever admitted his feelings was for his brother to freak out and punch him in the face. The worst he could imagine was a look of utter disgust on Dean’s face before he took off for parts unknown and never contacted Sam again. He couldn’t put up with the thought of seeing that look or the thought of never seeing Dean again. Safer just to keep those feelings locked away. He probably could’ve been at least content, if not happy, keeping that secret if it wasn’t for goddamn Zachariah and his “lesson”. And damn it all if thinking about all of this wasn’t forcing him to think back on every wonderful, indescribable thing he and Dean had done over the last three weeks! Great, now on top of everything else, he was turned on again, which was just freakin’ _perfect_ , thanks a lot.

 

Dean paced back and forth across the room while Sam took his marathon shower. Stupid kid knew how to play him like a fiddle. If Sam wasn’t leaving, neither was Dean. That was just how it worked. He grunted in frustration and dropped to sit on the edge of the bed just as Sam crept out of the bathroom, face flushed, towel hanging low on his hips.

 

They both froze, and Dean’s mind snapped back again to his memory of Sam being sixteen and coming out of the bathroom, hair wet, in a towel, exactly like he was now. The memory then flashed forward to just last night when they’d been at the apartment he’d lived in as Dean Smith. Both of them in the shower together. A wet, naked Sam in his arms...Dean tried to push those thoughts away, but his body had already reacted, so he pretended to ignore it and hoped that Sam didn’t notice. Because it was completely within the realm of possibilities that Sam hadn’t noticed that Dean had gotten hard so fast that he was damn near dizzy from pretty much every drop of blood in his body shooting south. Right.

 

“Um…could you give me that?” Sam finally broke the silence.

 

“What?!” Dean’s eyes went wide. Had Sam really just asked…?

 

“My sweatpants,” Sam clarified. “You’re sitting on them.”

 

“Oh!” Dean leapt to his feet. He snatched the sweatpants off of the bed and tossed them at his brother.

 

The toss went a little wild since Dean was unsuccessfully trying to hide his raging erection, and as Sam fumbled to grab for it his towel – which had already been barely clinging to his hips – slipped loose and dropped to the floor.

 

It would have been the simplest thing in the world for either of them to turn away. Or for Sam to pick up either the towel or sweats and cover himself up. Or even for one of them to make some sort of joke like they might have just a few weeks ago before all of this. Except neither of them did any of those things. They just stared at each other, both almost helpless to look away.

 

“Dean,” Sam took a step forward.

 

“No, Sam,” Dean finally snapped to his senses and looked away, putting a hand up to keep Sam from coming any closer. “We’re making a big deal over nothing. It doesn’t mean anything. We just spent the past three weeks…well, y’know. Things are bound to be a little mixed up in our heads for a bit. This…both of us being…how we are at the moment. It’s just a holdover from that. We don’t need to talk it to death.”

 

For a second Sam debated agreeing with Dean and just passing it off as nothing. It wasn’t like they hadn’t seen each other naked a million times over before all of this, anyway. When you lived right on top of each other the way they had for their entire lives, there were certain lines that just didn’t exist anymore. Winchester’s were famous for ignoring the obvious and moving on. This was just one more thing to bury, so he should suck it up and agree with Dean so that they could move past it. Besides, hadn’t he just been telling himself that he would _never_ tell Dean how he felt because of the risk of losing him? Yeah, agreeing with him was the best option.

 

“Enough,” was what he wound up saying instead. He said it gently, almost soft enough not to even register, but he knew Dean heard him anyway. Deciding to throw caution to the wind, Sam closed the rest of the distance between them and brushed his lips lightly over Dean’s. It was barely a touch, hardly even enough to be called a kiss, but they both jolted like they’d been shocked.

 

Sam pulled away just a little, waiting to see what Dean was going to do. Neither of them moved for a few moments, both of them just staring into each other’s eyes. Then Dean suddenly let loose in a burst of movement. Sam flinched as Dean grabbed him by the arms and slammed him against the wall, the emerald green eyes he loved flashing dangerously at him. His hopes shattered to pieces. He’d taken a chance, made a choice, and it wound up that he’d read the situation completely wrong and now Dean hated him. Sam was just opening his mouth to…well he wasn’t sure what he was going to say. Apologize, maybe? Beg his brother not to leave? He wasn’t sure. Dean cut him off before he could get a single word out, though.

 

“Tell me to stop, Sammy,” Dean begged.

 

“What?”

 

“Tell me to stop,” he repeated frantically, shaking his brother. “Tell me that I can’t feel this way about you. That I’m wrong or sick or _anything_. Because if this goes any further I’m not gonna be able to handle letting you go.”

 

“Y-you’re not?” Sam asked.

 

“Sammy,” Dean’s fingers dug into Sam’s arms tight enough to hurt. “The way I feel about you...I’ve tried for so long to push those feelings away because you’re my little brother and it’s not right. And maybe I’m being selfish, but I just don’t care anymore. If this starts, though, it’s not just gonna be some casual thing to me. That’s why I need you to stop it before this goes any further than it already has if there’s any part of you that doesn’t want it.”

 

“Stop it?” Sam clutched at the front of Dean’s shirt for a second, but then forced himself to calm down. If he got riled up his brother was going to slam the lid back down on his emotions, this rare moment where Dean was letting himself be completely open and honest would be over, and they were going to be right back where they’d started. “No. Dean, I don’t want you to push your feelings away anymore, and I don’t want just some casual ‘thing’ either. I’ve wanted this, us, since I was fourteen. If it’s not right,” Sam shrugged with a small, lopsided smile. “Well when’s the last time we bothered to do anything the easy way, anyhow?”

 

Dean forced himself to loosen his grip on Sam’s arms, to seem a little less desperate, but the second he managed to unclamp them, they twisted roughly into Sam’s hair and pulled him down into a kiss that was just as desperate as his grip had been. He pushed his body into Sam’s, pinning him even tighter against the wall.

 

“Since you were fourteen, huh?” he finally managed to say when they were forced to come up for air.

 

“Yeah. Since I was fourteen,” the little smile on Sam’s face spread into a slow, lust-filled grin. “Do you really want to talk about it right now, though?”

 

“Not at all,” Dean nipped at Sam’s jaw. He brushed his thumbs along Sam’s hipbones and then wrapped his hands around them and gently pulled him away from the wall.

 

Dean leaned up to suck and licked his way along Sam’s throat, knowing how crazy it made the taller man. Sam threw his head back to give him easier access and let his brother push him across the room until he felt the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed. Dean lowered him down, following and draping his body over Sam’s and kissing him softly.

 

Sam pushed his hands under Dean’s shirt and pulled on it until Dean got the idea and stood up long enough to yank it up over his head. He shoved his jeans, boxers, socks, and boots off, then lowered himself back down over Sam on the bed. He ground his hips down at the same time as Sam arched up, their cocks sliding together, making them both gasp.

 

They wrapped their arms around each other, foreheads touching, and Dean’s fingers found their way back into Sam’s hair again as they rocked together. For as much as he teased his little brother about all that hair, truthfully he loved it. Hell, ninety percent of the reason he was always insisting that Sam cut it was because he’d spent _years_ wanting to dig his fingers into it and had to force himself not to.

 

A moment or two later, Dean pulled away, which made Sam whine in protest. He shushed him and slid down Sam’s body, nipping and kissing as he went. With one last bite to the jut of Sam’s hip, Dean grinned up at his brother and sank his mouth down on him.

 

“God!” Sam couldn’t help the jerk that drove his cock into the back of Dean’s throat. Dean gagged slightly, but his eyes glinted with something like amusement as he pushed gently, but firmly on Sam’s hips and pinned him back down.

 

Dean hollowed his cheeks and swirled his tongue around Sam’s length as he slowly released one of Sam’s hips to reach over to where their duffels were still heaped on the bed. Fumbling a little, he managed to grope blindly until he found the little bottle of lube that was still tucked into the pocket of Sam’s computer bag. Coating his fingers, he started working two into his brother (and for some reason the _wrong_ -ness of that thought made him even harder than he thought possible), and hummed in surprise and pulled off of Sam as he found that he was already opened up. He assumed at first that it was from earlier that afternoon, but one look at the nine different shades of red that Sam was currently turning made Dean realize the truth.

 

“This what was taking you so long in the shower?”

 

“C’mon Dean, don’t tease,” Sam squirmed, feeling his face heat up even more.

 

“Oh, I’m not teasing, baby boy,” Dean promised. “Just wishing I’d been able to watch. That’s hot.”

 

Dean hadn’t known it was possible for Sam to blush any harder, but he managed it at that. He knew that if it was possible, Sam would be ducking his head to hide his eyes behind his hair.

 

“We’ll just have add that to the list of things I want to do with you,” Dean reached for the lube again.

 

“You have an actual list?” Sam shot his brother one of his patented bitchfaces.

 

“Can you blame me?” Dean crawled back up Sam’s body, grinning at him with an almost predatory look. “You were sixteen and you went from dorky little brother to sex idol pretty much overnight. So yeah, you’re damn right I have a list in my head of things I want to do with you and to you. And believe me when I say I plan to try every. Single. One of them.”

 

The last few words were punctuated with rough, claiming kisses that Sam happily returned. Dean carefully lined himself up and slowly, but steadily pushed into Sam.

 

“Dean!” Sam dug his face into Dean’s shoulder and dragged his blunt fingernails down Dean’s back, leaving long scrapes. “Jesus…fuck, Dean. God!”

 

After giving Sam a second to adjust, Dean started to move gently, opting for slow and sensual rather than hard and fast. Sure he liked hard and fast just as much as the next guy, but this was their first time together actually knowing who they were and how special it was. He wanted it to be everything they both deserved after having waited so long.

 

“C’mere,” he tipped Sam’s chin up to kiss him, tangling their tongues together and savoring the feeling of _finally_ being able to be completely wrapped up in Sam.

 

“N-not gonna…I don’t think I’m gonna l-last as long as I want to this time,” Sam admitted breathlessly.

 

“Well, don’t hold it against me, but I don’t think I am either,” Dean laughed. Despite himself, his long, slow thrusts were already starting to get faster and less coordinated. He changed the angle of his hips just slightly before his next thrust, and had to clamp down hard on his need to come as Sam cried out in pure pleasure and threw his head back against the pillow. Sparks exploded behind Sam’s eyes as Dean hit that spot inside of him two more times, and that was all it took.

 

“Oh god…god…Dean!” Sam’s vision whited out almost completely as his whole body clenched and he came harder than he ever had before in his life.

 

“Yeah, baby. Holy fuck,” Dean moaned as Sam clamped down tight around him. He pushed in as deep as he could and followed Sam over the edge, collapsing down on top of him and stroking his fingers softly through Sam’s hair.

 

“Sammy?” Dean lifted his head a little so he could look down at his little brother and chuckled. Sam was completely boneless, lying underneath him, passed out cold.

 

Dean took another minute or two to get some control over his trembling limbs and then slowly pulled out of Sam and stood. He stumbled his way to the bathroom to get a washcloth and set to work wiping them both down. He was wiping the last streaks of come from Sam’s chest when the younger man came to with a jerk.

 

“Wha…?” Sam slurred. He groaned as he realized what had happened. “Oh man. You’re never going to let me forget that you actually screwed me unconscious, are you?”

 

“Never,” Dean confirmed. He dropped the washcloth into the pile of his discarded clothes and Sam’s towel, then crawled back into the bed with Sam.

 

“Eh, I guess I can live with that. As long as you promise to keep doing it,” Sam wrapped his long limbs around Dean, cuddling them both together and damn what Dean might think of it.

 

“Now that’s a promise I’m more than willing to make,” Dean rolled his eyes at Sam’s octopus impression, but didn’t actually protest, instead choosing to comb his fingers through his long, soft hair again as Sam laid his head on Dean’s chest.

 

They laid together on the bed in content silence for several minutes, both of them lost in their own thoughts. Occasionally Dean would softly kiss the top of Sam’s head.

 

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Dean eventually broke the silence.

 

“Nope,” Sam sighed.

 

Dean’s heart sank. Sam had seemed so sure that he wanted all of this earlier. Had everything he’d said before been a lie?

 

“ ‘Okay’ doesn’t cover it,” Sam continued quickly. “I know how you always say that you don’t believe in destiny, but even you can’t deny it this time. Zachariah made it so that we were complete strangers, and we _still_ wound up being drawn to each other. So no, ‘okay’ isn’t the right word. It’s way too casual for how I feel. I love you, Dean. And I know that you don’t do the touchy-feely, chick flick moments, so I don’t expect you to say that back to me. I want you to know that it’s how I feel, though.”

 

“You bitch,” Dean kissed Sam’s forehead, squeezing him tighter.

 

“Yeah, yeah. Jerk,” Sam returned. He smiled as he realized that while Dean may not have said the actual words ‘I love you’, what he’d said meant the same thing, just in his own way which made it that much more special. And that was more than enough.


End file.
